


do ut des

by graiai



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Bad Ending, Goodbyes, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graiai/pseuds/graiai
Summary: You feel your apotheosis settling into your bones.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	do ut des

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skysedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/gifts).



“Oh, no, no, no, no,” the Exarch breathes, his grip upon his golden staff white-knuckled, his hands shaking. “This was meant to work. Why isn’t it working?” 

You can barely breathe, barely think. There’s a flood-bright light behind your eyes, blinding, and everything feels cold, or hot, or both. You’re burning up, burning to ash, the glow behind your eyes heavy in your sinuses and trying to make its escape past your lips. You swallow it down and back like vomit, and it burns just as bitter as it drips down your throat. Every part of you that it touches is drenched in stagnant æther, vile as still water, and you can feel yourself _change_. 

“ _Please_ ,” the Exarch begs on a cracked voice as you feel your apotheosis settling into your bones. “Please, this _must work_ , the world cannot lose her hero.” 

There are few things which truly _cannot_. Once, you would have sworn the flow of æther could not still—and yet. Black Rose and the sterile purgatory of the Empty have proven that clearly wrong. “There are other heroes,” you say, and your voice no longer sounds quite your own. You can feel, from the knobs of your spine, something _growing_ out of you. What was it Alphinaud had said, what seems now like a lifetime ago? Ah, right— “You need only to find yourself another champion.” 

The Exarch as good as _snarls_ , more fervor by far than in his feigned betrayal of only minutes ago. “ _No_ ,” he spits, the tips of his ears flat against his skull, “I shan’t allow you to speak so morbidly. You will walk away from this, you must. You _must_.” 

“I won’t, Raha,” you murmur. You take hold of his wrists, the feeling in your fingers all gone. Gold fault-lines run down skin made cold and hard, white as unglazed porcelain. His staff falls with a metallic clatter, but you hardly notice it. His fingers twine between yours. “But you will.” 

You press your lips to his, chaste lest the light try to take him as well. You only wish you could offer him more. Your final words are on no breath at all: “It’s time for you to go home.”


End file.
